


The Thing About Heaven Is...

by Ltleflrt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Coda, Episode: s15e20 Carry On Coda, Fix-It, Hopeful Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam has no patience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: The thing about Heaven is that even though Dean has been here before, this time he's taking the time to enjoy the experience, and things are a lot different than he expected.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 142
Kudos: 635
Collections: SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection





	The Thing About Heaven Is...

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't hate the ending. Didn't love it either, but eh what can we do?
> 
> Add Castiel, duh.

The thing about Heaven is that it’s still built on memories. 

Bobby’s voice hits him with a blast of nostalgia so strong that Dean’s knees tremble. This is _his_ Bobby, not the one from the apocalypse world who became a good friend, but was never the father figure Dean relied on most in his life. It’s just as gruff as he remembers it, and there’s an edgy grumpiness underlying everything he says, though his eyes are soft with the light of peace and joy. 

Even if the beer is just as gross and nasty as it was the first time he drank with his dad, the flavor still fills him with the same pride and love as he’d felt that day. When John was in a rare happy mood after a successful hunt, his smile broad as he popped a cap off the first beer out of the cooler and passed it to a very surprised ten year old Dean.

And Baby… When Bobby suggests he do something he wants, she’s the first thing he thinks of. And then she’s there, parked in the gravel lot in front of Harvelle’s, gleaming in the sunlight like she does after he’s given her a fresh wax. Her tires are deep black, the chrome like lines of polished quicksilver.

He gets behind Baby’s wheel, and even though he knows she’s not real, she’s a construct of his memories of another car in another realm of existence, the door still squeaks just like it did back on Earth. The leather wrapped steering wheel under his fingers still feels the same. And the seat still cradles him with the same comfort and support that it has for most of his life. He reaches for the stereo and pushes the tape in, and the music coming from the old speakers still has all the same static and pops that have become so familiar that it makes listening to it from other sources feel unnatural.

His lips twitch up in satisfaction at the familiar melody. It’s a classic. “I love this song.”

The rumble of her engine is the same too.

  
  


The thing about Heaven is that time flows differently up here.

He rolls down the window, and he puts his foot down on the gas. Baby’s wheels eat asphalt, and he smiles as the wind blows through his hair. Outside the scenery is beautiful, but it passes in a blur as the needle on the speedometer creeps higher and higher. He takes curves too fast, without fear of flipping his girl, and it is exhilarating.

_Carry on my wayward son… there’ll be peace when you are done…_

He sings along, at the top of his lungs. During the guitar solos, he drums his hands on the wheel, and lets himself really rock out in a way that he hasn’t in years. 

Despite the fact that the song is only halfway through, he can feel time speeding up outside of his immediate surroundings, somehow. Days, weeks, months, and more. A cosmic hourglass seen from the corner of his eye, the sand trickling through the pinch in the glass.

But his sense of the passage of time is muted and distant. It’s the murmur of a crowded restaurant outside the booth where he’s sharing an intimate conversation with a friend. 

He belts out the last lines so loud it makes his throat ache. Or maybe it’s something else lodged in there, something he doesn’t want to examine yet. As the final instrumentals fade away, he comes to a bridge.

It seems like a good spot to stop. He gets out, walks to the rail, and looks out over the landscape. It’s beautiful. The colors almost too much, more intense than reality, like something from a lucid dream, but he knows deep down inside that he’s awake and this _is_ his reality now.

He can’t wait to share it.

  
  


The thing about Heaven is that it’s full of people he loves. 

It was damn good seeing Bobby. And he’s already itching to go visit his parents. To check in on Rufus and meet his wife. As soon as he can, he’s going to head back and get a _good_ beer at the Roadhouse. Ellen keeps the top shelf stuff on the bottom shelf, and Jo will make sure that’s what he gets. And maybe while he has his second beer, he’ll play a round of pool with Ash.

He wonders if Ash and Charlie have crossed paths yet. If not, he’ll make sure they meet. Maybe he’ll drag them both to one of those concerts Pamela enjoys so much.

But not yet. There’s someone he’s waiting for.

It’s only seconds and many decades before he senses the presence behind him. A smile breaks slowly across his face. “Heya, Sammy.”

“Dean.”

The hug is tight, satisfying, and almost everything he needs. A wound in his soul, made by a chunk of rebar, knits together.

He’s still waiting. But it’s easier now that he’s only waiting for one instead of two.

  
  


The thing about Heaven is that even after all the work Jack and Cas put into it for him, it’s not perfect.

The air is clean and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, and the water flowing under the bridge is more melodious than all his favorite mix tapes. He can feel the happiness radiating off of Sam like heat waves. He must have spent those decades well, and Dean cannot wait to hear all his stories.

But there is still something missing. Something that niggles at the edges of his satisfaction.

“It’s different,” Sam says. “I didn’t expect to find you right away… not without--”

“A map, a shit ton of spell work, or a celestial lockpick?”

Sam chuckles. “Something like that.” He suddenly frowns and looks around, eyeing the road under their feet. “We’re not soulmates. Is this the Axis Mundi?”

For the first time since he opened his eyes in Heaven, Dean laughs. And it feels damn good. He’d made peace with his death as it happened, but it seems like he’d still needed some time to mourn the things he lost, a life cut short. What should have been decades of a life free of Chuck’s manipulations… a chance to see Sam grow old and happy, hopefully with a family… and an opportunity to say something important to someone who deserved to hear it before it was too late. His little joyride took a lot longer than he thought it did.

“No,” he says with a grin. “Jack went all This-Old-House on the place and knocked down all the walls. Really opened up the interior, y’know? I hear it makes big get-togethers real nice.”

When Sam’s face lights up at the mention of Jack, it illuminates some of the darker corners of Dean’s heart. “He’s here?”

“I guess. He’s around, doin’ his God Business.” Dean clears his throat when it threatens to close around his next words. “And Cas is helpin’ him out.”

“Wait, what?” Sam whirls to face him, the hope shining from him. “Cas is here? Where is he? _How_ is he? Was it Jack?”

Now Dean’s throat does close up. Maybe he’s not done mourning. Maybe he’s just upset that Cas got out of the Empty and didn’t come straight to him to let him know. They could have had time. Time to do one last tap dance around each other before coming together and breaking in Dean’s memory foam mattress with its first two person horizontal mambo. But then again, maybe Cas didn’t think that was a possibility…

_Because the one thing I want… it’s something I know I can’t have._

Something of his thoughts must show on his face, because Sam gives him patented Bitch Face #42. “You haven’t seen him yet.” He doesn’t wait for confirmation. “Have you _tried?”_

“I uh… no, I just got here,” Dean mumbles. The drive was only the length of a song, wasn’t it? But there had been the sense of sand sliding through a glass...

“Oh for Christ’s-- _Castiel? You there?”_

  
  


The thing about Heaven is that Angels, Chuck’s monstrous First Children, call it home.

On Earth, the flap of wings that announced the sudden arrival of an angel was quiet, subtle. Kinda cute sometimes, and annoying as fuck at others. 

Here, it’s loud as a subwoofer and Dean’s ears pop under the pressure.

On Earth, Castiel is just a nerdy, dorky little guy. A holy tax accountant. A babe--er--baby in a trenchcoat.

In Heaven he’s…. still just a nerdy, dorky little guy. Trenchcoat? Check. Crooked tie? Dean’s taught him a dozen times to tie it right, but the lesson never stuck, and it still hasn’t apparently. Dark messy hair, and too blue eyes? Oh yeah, that’s all still there.

But he’s _more._ If Dean unfocuses his eyes, he can almost perceive the edges of Castiel’s true form. Just the colors alone give him a headache though, and he blinks, focusing on the man standing in front of them with his head ducked like he’s expecting a scolding.

“Hello, Sam. It’s good to see you again.” Castiel’s welcoming smile fades a little when he turns his alien-yet-all-too-human gaze on Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate. He barrels into Castiel, somehow knocking the cosmic being back on his heels, and wraps him in the same hug he’d treated Dean to just a few minutes-years earlier.

Castiel peeks warily at Dean over Sam’s shoulder, but his gaze still holds the same laser focus that has always made Dean feel peeled open, revealed and known in a way that started out uncomfortable but eventually became a balm on his lonely heart. 

With fond impatience, Dean waits for his brother to stop hogging the angel.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Sam says as he releases Castiel and stands back. Somehow he still seems to dwarf the massive angel. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you let us know you escaped the empty?”

“Jack needed my help.” Castiel gestures around them. “We had work to do.” He smiles, tentative. “But I also kept watch over you, Sam.”

Just like Dean asked him to do once, the last time he went on his own suicide mission. Something warm and powerful bubbles up inside him, forcing itself up his throat and through his lips. “You’re still an idiot, you know.”

Castiel blinks at him, shocked, hurt. And no, that wasn’t what Dean meant. But he’s always been better with actions than words.

  
  


The thing about Heaven is that he can kiss an Angel if he wants to.

And oh boy does he want to. So he’s going to. It’s _his_ eternal reward right? 

Sam sees Dean’s intentions like a waving red flag and backs out of the way, making a poor attempt at hiding a smile. Castiel though, his eyes go wide, and the massive _something_ that is his trueform shifts as if ready to take flight. Dean reaches him before he can flap out of there like a giant eldritch chicken.

Dean has wrapped his arms around Castiel before. He knows what it feels like to hold him while he’s injured, and what it feels like to carry his lifeless vessel. And he knows what it feels like to hug him, to bask in the relief of having the angel back when he thought he’d lost him, to greet him after a long separation, to catch him in his arms when Castiel throws himself at Dean.

This is the first time since getting to Heaven that his memory does not live up to the real thing. Castiel’s shoulders _feel_ familiar, and the way Castiel’s arms grip his waist is not a new experience either. But under the familiar, is the unknown. The creature. The wavelengths of celestial intent.

And yet. He still feels just like _Cas_ in Dean’s arms. All too human for an Angel of the Lord. Maybe because he began to fall as soon as he touched Dean in Hell, shedding his of-the-Lord feathers and changing into something new, something better. Something Dean could learn to love.

_You changed me, Dean._

Ditto. And Dean’s going to tell him that eventually, but he’s got other priorities right now.

When he kisses Castiel, the wavelengths go shifty, swirling around him, through him. It feels like being struck by lightning. It feels like having all his atoms squeezed tighter together under the pressure. It feels like Love, skittering along every single one of his nerve fibres and sparking through his synapses. The sparks inside him pop and sizzle out gradually, in fits and starts, and eventually it feels less like kissing a live wire, and just like kissing the man of his dreams. 

When he lifts his head, he finds Castiel staring up at him with the shining blue eyes he’s missed so dearly since that awful night in the bunker’s dungeon. They’re glassy with unshed tears, and Dean gently rubs his thumbs under them to wipe away the moisture. He’s seen enough of Castiel’s tears to last him a lifetime. No need for that in the afterlife too.

“Oh,” Castiel says simply.

“You should have said something sooner, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “You could have had what you wanted a long time ago.” 

_“Oh,”_ Castiel sighs as what Dean is trying to say sinks in.

He can do better. “If it’s not clear as mud yet, I’m in love with you too.”

Well maybe not that much better. But he’s pretty sure the point has gotten across.

Castiel squints, and he’d probably do his little head tilty thing if Dean weren’t cupping his face. “Mud isn’t clear at all, Dean.”

The thing about Heaven, the new one Jack built with Castiel’s help and advice, is that it really is perfect. Once all the pieces are finally put in place. The last one leans up on its human-shaped toes, and presses its lips against Dean’s sending a jolt of Castiel’s pure love and joy through him again. It’s better than sex or pie, or sex followed by pie. And yeah, he’s going to enjoy this for the rest of eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> If you need some more positivity, I have some thoughts about Dean's Death.
> 
> https://ltleflrt.tumblr.com/post/635403137299120128/i-know-so-many-people-are-disappointed-that-dean
> 
> Take care of yourselves, read all the happy ending codas until the sad tears are replaced by happy tears.


End file.
